


Two Sides

by AiyokuSama



Category: Bleach
Genre: Angst, Friendship/Love, Gen, M/M, Misunderstandings, Unresolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-05-05
Updated: 2013-05-28
Packaged: 2017-12-10 12:50:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,312
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/786231
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AiyokuSama/pseuds/AiyokuSama
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's all Miyuri's fault, but now Ichigo has to deal with his new reality.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Part One

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: I called Ichigo's hollow Shirosaki. I've seen him called a lot of things (and in the series he has no name) but I went with Shiro because it's recognizable and less confusing then other options. Thank you Dragonbat2004 for the lovely beta!

He remembers a very concerned, tattooed face leaning over him. Renji.

 

He remembers a second set of hands working feverishly on the straps binding him to the table while cursing quietly. Uryū.

 

He remembers looking over his left shoulder as he lay there, realizing that there were three men fighting. Before his eyes, Byakuya's Senbonzakura Kageyoshi skewered Mayuri's Bankai Konjiki Ashisogi Jizō . He remembers thinking there really wasn't enough room in such a small space to contain the two.

 

He remembers Ukitake, his white hair swirling as he brought his twin zanpakuto to bear upon the scientist himself. He remembers wondering why the soft-spoken captain of the 13th squad looked so mad .

 

He remembers Renji and Uryū helping him off the table and how his legs had been suffering a severe case of pins-and-needles. He remembers looking at the door and wondering how they were going to get out, because Chad and Orihime had been blocking it, holding off 12th squad members trying to come to their captain’s aid.

 

He remembers Shunsei showing up and thinking about how very scary the womanizer appeared when he wore such a murderous look. He remembers thinking that something important was missing and they couldn't leave yet. ...Then everything is black.

 

Here and now, Ichigo is lying on a futon, looking up at a familiar ceiling. A quick glance around confirms that he's in the recovery room at the Urahara shotan. He's just not sure why. He feels tired and maybe a little weak, but he doesn't hurt anywhere.

 

Well, at least he doesn't have Tessai lying on top of him this time. That's got to be worth something. But he also isn't surrounded by Orihime's healing Shun Shun Rikka, nor is there anyone chanting healing kido over him. In fact, he's very much alone in the sparsely-furnished room.

 

Sighing, the orange-haired teen moves his arms out from under the blanket someone has thoughtfully covered him with. He flexes his hands as he holds them before his face, trying to figure out what’s happened. The things he remembers are clipped and disjointed. It's entirely possible that they have been a dream. But if that's the case, then he's left still having no idea why he's here and not in his room at home.

 

Ichigo really hates not knowing what's going on, for all that it seems to be a constant feature of his life.

 

Deciding that his hands are fine, he pushes the blanket off and looks around. He's in his shinigami garb, without so much as a thread out of place, let alone any injuries to be seen. So, what the hell?

 

No sooner does he sit up on the futon, than the sliding door is cracks open, just enough to show an kneeling Urahara, who smiles at him with his customary goofy grin. Then the fan comes up to hide the shopkeeper's face. “Ah! You're awake! How are you feeling, Ichigo?” the man enquires with that annoying sing-song voice of his. It grates on Ichigo's nerves, mostly because past experience tells him the bastard is probably aware of all kinds of things, which he has no intention of revealing.

 

“Confused,” the teen says honestly. “Why am I here?” He waves an arm around the room, which contains nothing more than a futon and a chest in the corner.

 

The shopkeeper’s voice grows dark and serious, and there is something about the eyes half-hidden by the brim of his hat that puts Ichigo immediately on edge. “What do you remember?”

 

Ichigo grits his teeth. He's really not in any mood for the man's games. “Nothing that makes sense. So spit it out! What the hell is going on?!” As his anger flares, he's ready to push Shiro down—doing so being second nature—but his hollow is oddly quiet. Huh.

 

The shopkeeper sighs and snaps the fan closed. He looks down so that the hat hides his expression. “Do you remember Mayuri asking you to allow him to draw a blood sample?”

 

Ichigo gives a slow, cautious nod. The captain of the 12th squad had been making that request for three weeks, often multiple times a day, either in person or via a squad member. It hadn't mattered whether Ichigo was in Soul Society, the Living World, or Huaco Mundo. The guy had just kept coming.

 

So yesterday, he'd agreed. After all it was just a blood test and Ichigo wasn't afraid of needles. But. He frowns. He remembers entering offices of the 12th... and very little else. Those memories just aren't there.

 

Urahara is nodding, as he sees Ichigo working through it for himself.

 

“What did he do?” The teen asks in a disbelieving whisper, looking down at his lap. This can't possibly be real. His stomach is a cold thing and he feels like he wants to be ill. Mayuri is one of those people that Ichigo has always disliked and distrusted. However, as a Soul Society Captain, he was also a person the teen needed to deal with. And as a captain, he was bound by rules... or so the theory went.

 

Why had he been fool enough to believe it would only be a stupid blood test?!

 

Taking a steadying breath he tries to pull himself together. He's not injured, he's established that much. And he's not dead. He's not dead, right? He’s in his soul form currently, just as he was when he went to the 12th. His body! Where is his body?!

 

Just before Ichigo launches himself from the futon, Urahara makes a sitting motion with his hands. “Take it easy, Ichigo. I'm fairly sure that what he did wasn't even close to what he wanted to do. Uryū followed you. When you left the offices, your friend didn't like what he saw and told Jūshiro. Mayuri didn't have you more than 20 minutes.”

 

Okay, well, that's good, but 20 minutes is a very long time. So much could happen. And he just KNOWS there is something the shopkeeper isn't telling him. Ichigo narrows his eyes. “What did he DO?” he demands a second time.

 

“Stupid old man,” an all-too-familiar eerie voice says from behind the door. The words have a breathy, oddly pitched quality that can only belong to one being. But he can't possibly be here!

 

The rice paper door is thrown aside forcefully and there, standing next to the kneeling shopkeeper, is Shiro. Shirosaki, his hollow...in a gigai. Dressed in a button-down white shirt, white slacks and even white shoes. This pale being could pass for something close to normal, were it not for the eyes. Gleaming yellow in a sea of black.

 

“Hey there, partner,” the hallow says with a grin. His blue—why would it be blue in a gigai?!—tongue comes out to lick his lips suggestively. He has his hand on the door, leaning to display his lithe body, showcased by his modern clothes.

 

The first thing that Ichigo notices is that the being's reiatsu isn't nearly as strong as he would have expected. Granted, he's not the best when it comes to sensing such things, but with the guy right there, even he should be able to notice more than he is. The fact that he doesn’t would normally be enough to have Ichigo deepen his almost perpetual frown, but at the moment, he's too gobsmacked to do anything but stare with his mouth hanging open, an accusing finger pointing at the hollow.

 

“Better close your mouth, King,” Shiro says, as he moves into the room. When he reaches the foot of the futon, the hollow drops to his hands and knees and begins crawling up over Ichigo's legs. “You'll catch flies that way.”

 

Ichigo can't get his body to do anything until he feels that blue tongue licking his index finger. “Gah!” Jumping up, he somehow manages to extract himself and stands against the back wall, looking at the hollow like he'd just tried to kill him, rather than simply lick him. Which, uh, gross!

 

Urahara is still sitting there, the fan once more before his face, as he watches things play out.

 

“Urahara, what the hell is going on!?” Ichigo demands a little shrilly, as he watches Shiro get back to his feet and begin advancing on him once more. The orange-haired teen begins moving sideways along the wall, working his way toward the door as he tries to keep some distance between himself and the hollow.

 

“This is what Mayuri did,” the shopkeeper says, gesturing toward the pale man with his fan. “He somehow managed to pull Shirosaki out of you.” The voice is so very serious that Ichigo can't do anything but believe him. It's not a bad joke.

 

“Bu-bu-but how?!” Ichigo wants to know, as he manages to work his way around to the door. Shiro is literally prowling after him, oh so slowly, licking his lips, his yellow eyes watching him predatorily. The asshole is enjoying this! “And why is he in a gigai?” Instead of in me, he silently wonders. Mayuri may have been able to pull the hollow out, but what would keep him from returning? Especially when it's obvious the creature loves making Ichigo's life hell.

 

When Shiro had been in Ichigo's mindscape they had battled for dominance and Ichigo had won. Again and again. The hollow has been well behaved for some time now. However, that had been there. Now Shiro was out, with a body of his own, and that was a terrifying prospect.

 

Ichigo is doing his best not to hyperventilate as he watches the hollow move. This can't really be happening.

 

“I'm reading Mayuri's notes to try and figure out the 'how' of it,” Urahara soothes, seemingly unconcerned about the hollow's behaviour. “And I put him in a gigai, because I'm not sure how long he can maintain his own form outside of yours. So, until I figure out what was done, I thought this safest.”

 

The teen stares at Urahara. The man has a very strange definition of “safe”. Then again, this is the guy that came close to killing him as a way of getting Ichigo's shinigami powers back. Pinching the bridge of his nose, Ichigo closes his eyes as he tries to stave off the headache he can feel building.

 

Of course that is a stupid thing to do, because it means not seeing what Shiro is doing. His eyes fly open as cool, slender fingers brush is cheek. “Awwww, poor King. Is it all too much for ya?” The hollow is standing before him, stroking his face with a feather-light touch. However, there is nothing of concern or care in that touch. Not when Shiro is grinning at him like that, not when that tongue is reaching out toward his lips.

 

“Oi! Would you stop it?” Ichigo demands, as he tries to duck away from the hollow.

 

“Make me,” the eerie voice says gleefully, as the Shiro advances on him once more. A hand with black finger nails reaches for him again. Ichigo shudders as, the hollow begins to cackle, utterly delighted with his game.

 

“Shirosaki, remember the rules.” That's Urahara, who is fanning himself calmly as he watches the pair. “I can put you in a gikongon,” he says lightly, but with an ominous undertone. As well it should be. Ichigo doubts the hallow would have much fun stuck inside an artificial soul pill. Actually, why hadn't Urahara done that in the first place? It would sure save them all a lot of problems.

 

He's relieved when he sees Shiro give a dramatic sigh and take a step back from him. “Yes, yes,” the watery voice says as he waves a dismissive hand at the shopkeeper. “I remember the rules. But I can still have some fun without hurting anyone.” And it's at that point that he smirks once more at Ichigo.

 

For his part, Ichigo rolls his eyes. Well, if the hollow is going to behave himself, then maybe this will be survivable until Urahara gets it sorted out. “So, what are we going to do with him?” The teen asks the ex-captain.

 

“Your father has already offered to let Shiro stay with your family,” Urahara informs him, as the man stands up, fanning himself, and seeming to think that everything’s squared away.

 

“WHAT?!” Ichigo all but shrieks, his caramel eyes widening comically. “No, hell no, sooooo not gonna happen!” He crosses his arms and glares at the hallow, since Urahara has already taken himself into the hallway. When Shiro gives him a questioning look, he elaborates. “You're not going to be anywhere near my sisters!”

 

The hollow’s yellow eyes narrow dangerously. “And just what the fuck do ya think I'd DO to 'em?” Shiro sneers angrily. The little reiatsu that Ichigo can feel from the other begins to swell. He balls up his fists, ready for anything the hollow might pull, or so he tells himself.

 

But Shiro just brushes past him out into the hall, stamping along the wood floors angrily. Ichigo peeks out into the hall, watching him go, and wondering what exactly just happened and why he's not bloodied.

 

He should probably go find Urahara and tell him he'll have to make other living arrangements for the hollow.


	2. Chapter Two

Shiro is pissed. No, he's fucking livid! How DARE Ichigo suggest he'd do something to the twins? Yes, he'd happily turn Ichigo into a bloody pulp, and those friends of his are definitely fair game. Then there is that father of his, who is practically begging to be hit. But those girls... no. Just no. Shiro wouldn't hurt them, he just wouldn't. It would be wrong for a reason he cannot name, but which he doesn't doubt in the least.  
  
So, suggesting that the hollow would do such a thing, had him seeing red. He'd been so close to literally ripping Ichigo's throat out. But the shopkeeper's threat was too fresh in his mind and he hadn’t been ready to give up his freedom just yet, no matter how satisfying it would have been to hurt the orange-haired King. His fists clench, as he stamps down the hall and into the back room where Urahara is sitting at the low table, sharing tea with Ichigo's friends; just two of them. The redhead and the Quincy . He has no idea where the rest are and he doesn't care.  
  
Snarling, the hollow's otherworldly eyes pin the shopkeeper in place. “I'm staying here,” he announces forcibly. As far as Shiro is concerned, it's not up for discussion.  
  
He doesn't miss how Abarai starts to get up, his hand reaching for his sword, until Urahara puts a hand on his wrist. The hollow lifts his lip in a sneer. Let the shinigami try it! He may not have his powers like before, but that matters little, he'll still wipe the floor with the self-righteous fucker!  
  
Abarai is the one who argued with Urahara about the danger of giving Shiro a gigai. He is the one who had raged about how it would put everyone in danger, about how they should just kill the hollow and finally free Ichigo, about how Shiro was nothing more than a parasite. And now, the tattooed face is looking at him with undisguised hate.   
  
It doesn't make sense. Shiro has never faced this one, never struck him. If anyone should react badly to him, it should be the Quincy; he's the one that Shiro took out, back in Huaco Mundo. Yet Isheda is calmly sipping his tea, his back to Shiro, looking unguarded and at ease, even as it seems the two men might go for each other’s throats.  
  
“I'm sure Urahara can find room for you,” the bespectacled boy says, setting his tea down. He doesn't turn around to look at the hollow. If anything, he seems to be looking at the shopkeeper. There is something akin to understanding, as the man looks back and gives a slight nod to the teen, before turning a goofy smile on the hollow.  
  
“Of course, you can stay,” is the jovial response from the blond.”But, why do you want to, Shirosaki? Isshin wants you to be part of the family.” The man is clearly confused about the change of plans, though he doesn't look remotely put out.  
  
“Doesn't matter what that old man wants,” the watery voice snarls, his eyes still on Abarai. “Ichigo doesn't want me there and I don't want to be there!” And he really doesn't want to be, he affirms to himself as he stands in the doorway. He doesn't. He's been trapped in the kid's mindscape for so long, why would he want to share a home with him?! This is his chance to have his freedom, to do the things he wants, rather than be carted around by his King.  
  
He's startled when Isheda speaks again. “Why don't you sit and have some tea, Shirosaki.” The quiet words aren't really a request, but the hollow ignores that part, as he sits between the Quincy and the shopkeeper, across from Abarai. The other continues to glare death at him, but Shiro just smirks. Urahara said yes, and Ishida wants him here; there is nothing for the shinigami to do about it. He sticks out his blue tongue at the tattooed man, before taking a sip of his tea.  
  
“Shirosaki, please stop teasing Renji,” the Quincy says quietly, apparently unfazed by his juvenile behaviour. Glancing at Ichigo's classmate, the hollow has no idea why he listens to the request, but there is something about the calm facade that makes him want to listen. Even if riling up the shinigami is a lot of fun.  
  
The hollow pouts, his shoulders slumping dramatically. “Am I gonna be allowed to have any fun?” Not that he cares; he'll do what he wants after all.   
  
“No,” Abarai snarls at him. The hollow doesn't miss the way the shopkeeper's hand tightens on the man's forearm.  
  
Putting down his tea, Shiro smirks at the redhead. “Any time ya wanna go a few rounds, Pineapple Head, just say the word!”  His tongue comes out again, this time licking his lips in anticipation of a good fight. He has every intention of making Abarai bleed.  
  
There is a loud bang, as the palm of Ishida's hand smacks down hard on the table top, causing the tea cups to jump and slosh. “Enough!” The Quincy isn't quite yelling, as he looks between Shiro and Abarai, one eyebrow twitching in annoyance. “The two of you are acting like children,” he accuses hotly in that clipped tone of his.   
  
Shiro looks at the youth curiously. Why was the archer coming between them? Why would he care?And wouldn't he, of all people, be siding with the shinigami? Ichigo has no memory of what happened in Huaco Mundo when Shiro manifested in his full glory. But Shiro remembers and no doubt, so does the Quincy. It makes sense for Ishida to want his hide. Yet here is the youth, trying to keep the peace. That makes no sense.  
  
On the other side of the table, Abarai settles down and the shopkeeper removes his hand and picks up his fan, using it as he looks around the table. There is something very inscrutable about the man and it's pissing Shiro off. At least, Abarai is easy to read.  
  
Ishida isn't easy to read, but he's not annoying like the shopkeeper. He’s just being himself, though Shiro has no idea why he knows that is the case.  
  
“Renji, will you be returning to the Soul Society?” Ishida asks, breaking the silence that had descended around the table. The angle is wrong and the reflections from the glasses prevent Shiro from getting a look at the archer's eyes, but there is something suggestive about his tone.  
  
The redhead huffs and looks down at his drained tea cup. “Yeah, I guess I should. I told Captain Kuchiki that I'd come back, once Ichigo woke up.” He moves a hand up to rub the back of his neck, taking care not to look at Shiro and making no move to get up. The hollow frowns. This sitting still and being quiet thing is for the birds.  
  
“I'm awake,” Ichigo says, as he enters the room behind Shiro and the archer.  
  
The hollow feels something inside him swell at the sound of that voice, the so-familiar reiatsu. When he looks back, he can see that Ichigo looks horrible. There are bags under his eyes and he's leaning heavily on the door frame. Wait, why the hell should Shiro care about that?! This asshole just insulted him! So Ichigo can just go and... something. He resolutely turns around on the pillow and smirks at Abarai, making little shooing motions at the lieutenant.  
  
“Guess that's your cue, Pineapple Head,” the hollow sneers triumphantly. Abarai snarls right back at him.  
  
The shiniami looks up at his orange-haired friend. “Are you feeling okay, Ichigo?”  Abarai is openly concerned, as he looks the teen over.  
  
Shiro is frowning. He doesn't understand why Abarai cares about Ichigo. Or why any of these creatures matter to his king. And he doesn't like it, that connection. It makes his king weak and puts him in stupid situations. But... but... one look at the human and it's obvious that just having the redhead ask such a simple question puts the teen at ease. It makes no sense at all.  
  
“Eh,” Ichigo shrugs. “I feel like roadkill, but I'll live,” he waves a hand at his friend's concern.  
  
Standing up, the redhead nods to no one in particular. “Okay. But when I come back, you owe me a spar.” He flashes a toothy grin at Ichigo, which the teen returns, albeit rather tiredly.   
  
“Deal. Just don't whine at me when you lose!”    
  
The redhead laughs, as he waves to his friends and heads out the room, carefully skirting around Shiro. The hollow can feel the glaring eyes trying to bore a hole in the back of his head. Turning around, he grins broadly at the shinigami. “What? No kiss-kiss?” the eerie voice wheedles with sickening sweetness. Then he cackles as he hears Abarai growl.  
  
“Just ignore him, Renji,” Ichigo advises, as the redhead stops near him. The Lieutenant of the sixth squad grumbles something indistinct. He gives the teen a hard, appraising look before he nods to himself.  A strong hand lands on the boy's should, giving a firm squeeze before the redhead takes off without another word.  
  
Shiro scowls as his human counterpart takes Abarai's vacated seat and pours himself some tea without looking at the hollow. He fumes. How dare the human snub him like that! With a savage sound escaping his thin lips, Shiro launches himself to his feet, his unnatural eyes glaring hatred at the teen that he knows so well. Then, with three sets of eyes blinking at him, the hollow turns and stalks out. He has no idea where he's going; he just can't be in that room...with HIM.  
  
The anger burns hotly, but shows no sign of abating. The hollow understands anger. As well as hunger. These are part of his nature after all. What he doesn't understand is why the anger is coming out now and over something so fucking petty. Should he be glad that Ichigo is ignoring him? If he's being ignored then he can do what he wants. It's a good theory. A very workable one, really. One that leaves him aching with emptiness.  
  
His feet carry him out of the shop and down the street. For three blocks, he doesn't really see anything—not even the ground under his feet, despite his downward stare. Eventually, though, he becomes aware that he's warm, which surprises him. It takes a moment to realize that he's feeling the sun on the skin of his gigai. This artificial body really is a marvel, if he thinks about it. Of course, he's not actually thinking about it.   
  
Shading his annoyingly sensitive eyes, he looks up at the sky. It's blue with white fluffy clouds. And the buildings are the right way up. It's not like Ichigo's mindscape, where the skyscrapers are on their sides and the rain is nearly unending. It's nice, Shiro decides as he continues to walk, this time looking around a little.  
  
Being that he's part of Ichigo's soul, he's always watched from behind his king's eyes. So, when he sees children playing in the park, it's by no means surprising. But this time, he doesn't have to move past as Ichigo carries on his way. This time, his body is his own and he can stop to watch them. Two are having some kind of contest on the swings. Three others are laughing, as they make the merry-go-round spin faster.  
  
Children. They are so strange. Hollows don't have children. They don't reproduce sexually. A hollow is created when a departed soul hasn't moved on and loses its heart to despair. These  basic, lowly types can then merge into the ginormous Gillians. In some cases, they will evolve to the state of Adjuchus, regaining some of their sense of self and ability to reason. And, in a few cases, they can even become Vasto Lorde, something closer to shinimagi then anyone really wants to admit. But hollows don't have children, and the tiny beings fascinate him, even as he thinks it amazing any of them survive to adulthood.  
  
One the children falls off the spinning merry-go-round and an adult female rushes forward, pulling the crying child close and making soothing noises. Shiro watches as the woman talks to the child and inspects him for injury. Apparently the boy's palm is injured and the woman kisses it tenderly. Interestingly enough, the child stops crying and starts smiling. A kiss removes pain? That seems utterly ridiculous, but he's seeing the proof for himself.  
  
With a derisive curl of his lip he walks on down the street.  
  
Humans are such weak things. Most of them. Not his king. Ichigo has surprised him so many times the way he keeps going, refusing to give up, even when there is no hope. Somehow, the boy is able to overcome the impossible. Though, a few times, he’s required help.  
  
It's a minor detail, he decides. All that really matters is that his king is strong. Is he strong now? Shiro was pulled out and honestly, that had fucking hurt in ways that had nothing to do with nerve endings. If it had hurt him, how had it affected his king? Ichigo had seemed fine when he woke, probably just in need of food and more sleep. Part of the hollow is relieved, while another part rages angrily.  
  
Why should the teen be unaffected? Why should he get off easy!? Shiro can feel the draw of the emptiness that sings through him whenever he looks at Ichigo. The longing that he can't name, because he's terrified to examine it. A longing the orange-haired teen doesn't share! That bastard!  
  
He is fuming—almost literally, to anyone who can feel reiatsu. The few people out on the street unconsciously move away from him. It's just as well. When one man—a chubby middle-aged being lost in his own thoughts—bumps into Shiro, the hollow grabs the human by the neck, snarling savagely. His hand begins to close on the annoyance, causing the human to choke and wheeze as he grabs at the pale wrist.  
  
The sounds are sweet, and so is the fear in the human's eyes. He likes it, likes the power he has, likes the whispers and hushed panic, as those around him notice his actions. It's heady, seductive. His hand tightens a little more.   
  
“Release him, Shirosaki.” The command is calm, but the words project to cover the distance between them. Still holding the human by the throat, the hollow looks behind him to see the Quincy standing there, a look of determination on his frowning face. His pendant is hanging from his wrist, though he hasn't formed his bow yet.  
  
The hollow frowns, but he looks down at himself, at the body he now inhabits. There are conditions to his remaining in his borrowed gigai. And annoying as the obese human was, he isn't worth Shiro's freedom. Releasing the pathetic creature with a disgusted huff, he doesn't bother watching, as the man falls to his hands and knees, gasping for air. Instead he turns toward the Quincy, who has made no attempt to get closer. Or to call forth his bow.  
  
Shiro begins to saunter toward the archer, smiling as he runs his tongue over his thin bottom lip. He hadn't expected anyone to come after him, not when they seemed to so sure that his reduced power level made him “safe”. He certainly never would have expected it to be the Quincy. A part of him is furious that it's anyone other than his king. That thought makes his reiatsu flare again.  
  
“Don't make me shoot you,” Ishida warns him calmly, as the hollow comes within a comfortable conversational distance. A distance from which he could easily strike the boy down. Yet, there is no fear in him. It gives Shiro a moment's pause.  
  
Frowning, his gold eyes watch the bespectacled boy. Why isn't this one afraid of him? Of all of Ichigo's friends, this one knows what he’s capable of. If that Inonue girl hadn't been there at the time, the Quincy would be very dead.   
  
In the end, when he'd vanquished Ulquoirra, the Quincy had approached him and Shiro had just lashed out. There had been no thought, not that he’d had any later regrets. It had been pure instinct. All enemies must be killed. Anyone other than his king was an enemy.  
  
He has no regrets about having lashed out, about what could have happened if the girl hadn't been there. But Ishida's lack of fear is confusing. He moves closer, sniffs at him, his blue tongue coming out as though he means to taste Ishida's skin. He doesn't get any farther. Instead, he gives an little ‘eep’ sound, as his wrist is seized in the archer's strong grip and he's pulled down the  street, presumably toward the Shoten.  
  
Shiro stumbles the first few steps, taken by surprise. Then he pulls back, hissing angrily at being manhandled.  
  
“Be quiet,” the Quincy orders. “You were drawing a crowd.” When they come to an empty lot, the teen pulls him into it. The adjacent building screens them from onlookers. Only then does he release Shiro's wrist.  
  
The hollow has no opportunity to take advantage of his freedom before Ishida rounds on him angrily. “Are you stupid?!” the teen shouts, all pretence of calm utterly discarded. “Do you want them to kill you?! Because they will; a lot of them are just waiting for an excuse!”  
  
Gold eyes blink at Ishida’s outburst. That others want him dead isn't news. But it would seem that Ishida doesn't count himself among them. His confusion redoubles.  
  
Shiro is vaguely aware Ishida has backed him up against the brick wall and is holding him there with the sheer fury of his words. Yet, he can't bring himself to push him away.  
  
“Don't give them one!” the Quincy continues hotly. “He needs you!” Then, as if a switch has been flipped, the teen steps back, infinitely calmer then he was a moment ago. He adjusts his glasses unnecessarily, as he takes a calming breath and looks around. “We need to get back.”    
  
Shiro watches as the teen walks away without looking back. Clearly, the Quincy expects him to follow and he resents that, but those last words keep echoing in his mind. What does he mean?  Who needs him? As he moves after Ishida, the hollow frowns. He wants to know.  
  



End file.
